


Floor Five

by somebodytoldme



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drug Dealing, Gang Violence, Gavin is a film student, M/M, alternative universe, based in NYC, some fluffy feelings later, they are neighbors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodytoldme/pseuds/somebodytoldme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin is a film student suddenly moving from the UK to NYC for college. He lives in a tiny apartment. And his neighbor in 511 is an odd sort of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gavin came to the United States as a student of filmography. He had already recorded, with some small success, in slow motion, but it was really his dream to do something more. Although slow motion was what got him to this very prestigious school in New York City, it also wasn’t what he found himself passionate for. It was a cool hobby and tool for something that he would create, something that he would  _direct._  

And New York City was different from that small town he called home back in the UK. There, everything was familiar, the streets, the people… In the city, known as Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, everything was foreign. He found himself often befuddled by the maps of subways, turning to a kinder soul that would direct him, and there always was somebody to. As reputation would have it that New Yorkers are  _rude_ , there were also those who were accustomed to confused, daring tourists and were more than willing to lend a quick word of advice.

But even so, it made Gavin no less uneasy to travel among the huge crowds of people. And as unsettling as it all was, it was also exciting. And these positive feelings of a journey, of  _gratefulness_ , swiftly crushed any doubts he had. He’d have one unused ticket back to England, courtesy of his worrisome mother, left in his suitcase for eternity.

The wide-eyed Gavin found his  _very small_  apartment in the  _very large_ city and unpacked his belongings in the three room space. It had a bedroom, bathroom, and living room that was sort of also a kitchen. But it would suit his needs because it was cheap, and his school was maybe seven blocks away.

After he finished unpacking the last of his very sad wardrobe, Gavin decided that it was best to celebrate this accomplishment. So, the party of his settling in his new life in a new country was to be his hike down the block to spoil himself with an icecream. 

He lingered out the door way, making sure to lock his apartment tight. His mother had lectured him for hours on the fear of him being robbed… He did have a lot of expensive film equipment within his apartment, and he really would prefer it to stay there. Though, as it was, he was on the fifth floor of a rather large apartment complex, so it actually made him feel safe to be surrounded by so many.

And just as he was testing the security of his door, did he hear a woman yelling loudly, though he was unable to distinguish what she was saying since it sounded foreign. Not a moment later, however, at the end of the hall, just three doors down from him, the door 511 slams open. Out storms a young man with wild, brown hair, which quickly disappears under the beanie he pulls over his head. He glances, briefly, at Gavin under black rimmed glances, before pivoting away and pressing his weight on the door that lead to the emergency staircase. While Gavin watches the man disappear, the apartment door clicks shut and all is silent again.

He walks over to the elevator, and presses the button. As he watches the numbers slowly light up to his level, he considers his first meeting with one of his  _many_  neighbors. He considers the boy who would rather walk down five fleets of stairs than to wait for the elevator. And when the elevator comes to a halt before him, its doors sliding open in welcoming, he turns away. He walks the emergency exit door, and there he hesitates. He shakes himself at his stupidity for the sudden inspiration to walk five fleets of stairs, but he is now committed. So he heads after his neighbor 511.

The walk down is uneventful and tiresome, and when Gavin reaches the bottom, he doesn’t feel as committed to hiking the city alone for icecream anymore. Instead, he feels he’d rather be back in his apartment… Calling home. So, he does just that. And takes the elevator back up. 

——

"That’s it, I am going to wire you some more money. There is no way your current allowance will do for groceries, by the way you’re talking," rants the woman on the other line.

That woman was his mother, and with the most affection that he can, Gavin cuts her off, “Mum, I’m doing  _fine._ Trust me. I am capable of budgeting. Besides, if I need the extra cash I could always find a part time job… There is a convenience store on the block that looks like it is hiring.”

"Absolutely not! I will not have you working at such a place, alone, at night no doubt… What about your studies, you did go all the way  _there_  to focus on your studies did you not?”

Gavin sighs because he  _knows_  how much his mother disapproved of his moving to a big city in another country. He understood her worry was warranted, so he tried to be patient, but it was  _hard_. “No, Mum, it would be day shifts…” He paces the floor of his tiny apartment, suddenly feeling too confined in the tiny space. He needed to  _go out_. “And school doesn’t start for at least another month… It’d be better to get a part time job to save up a little more.” He speaks like it is final, like he  _really_  is done with this argument because he is.

And his mother must recognize this because she makes a rude noise over the line, “very well then… But I  _shall_ be sending you a little extra, don’t you dare argue with me over it either.”

He rolled his eyes, “ok Mum, thank you…” He reached for his keys and wallet, the need to get out was reaching overwhelming.

Her sharp ears hear the clinking of his keys, “are you going somewhere?”

He opens the door and moves to secure the locks, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, “I’m going out.”

"Out  _where?_ ”

"Out… Look, I have to go now. I love you," he offers up the last because he rarely really breaks down and says it. And he  _knows_  it melts her.

She sighs over the phone, “you play dirty, dear. I love you too. Be careful, alright?”

He pushes at the door, content. “Yeah, I will. Bye.” 

He waits for the elevator. Until he hears the creak of a door opening, and his head swings around to the end of the hall. There he is, again, reaching for the handle to the door of the staircase. 

But this time Gavin doesn’t wait to follow. He races down the hall after him, his heart pounding in his chest, curiosity and adventure bubbling up inside of him as he follows the trail.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up, in a moment he is a step behind the dark haired man, paused awkwardly. What does he mean to ask the man? What does he mean to do at all? He has no clue.

But by now the man has noticed him. He is looking up the staircase at him, squinting through black rimmed glasses, “are you following me?”

Gavin felt like he just put his foot in his mouth because he was befuddled as how to reply. So, he just stood there stupidly.

The man scoffed, “ok then… Why are you following me, should I ask?”

Gavin found himself pointing, stupidly, up,”five o’eight.”

It took the man a moment to process this before he sighed. He also mumbled something about  _having a weird foreigner for a neighbor_  before looking back at Gavin. “Well, ok, five o’eight. I’m five eleven, nice to be your neighbor and all.” And then he turned away, quickly leaving Gavin behind at the top of the stairs.

And Gavin stood there for a while, feeling like a real idiot. He waited long enough, until he was sure that his neighbor had safely left the building, before descending the stairs. And then he walked over the convenience store and put in an application.

—-

The job isn’t that bad. Most of the time he is scheduled to work  _only_ days. But, there was the rare occasion where they would ask him the sub for the guy on night shift. Those were the shifts that he’d never dare tell his mother about. And it wasn’t like it was fun, but it wasn’t horrible either. Most of the time he’d just end up watching television, and turned away underaged kids who tried to buy alcohol. And he got paid overtime for it.

One night, or morning, as it were two in the morning at the time, he was taking back the trash after closing. And the dumpster was in this busted, creepy ass alleyway. Most of the time Gavin wouldn’t bother and would leave it for the morning when he came in, but tonight it really  _stank._  

And as he let the lid on the dumpster fall, he felt this ominous feeling… Of being watched. Which was only confirmed when he felt hands on him, and hot breath on his skin. They gripped the collar of his shirt, and yanked back, making him choke on air. “Give me the keyss,” hisses a harsh voice in his ear, and with it he gets a strong whiff of alcohol.

"W-what?" he asks, genuinely confused at this point.

"The keys, keys," the man is yelling now, fumbling to turn Gavin about to face him.

And Gavin is frozen, he doesn’t know what to do. So he just lets himself be handled and shook as the man slurs and grows more frustrated.

Then Gavin hears it, the moan of another, and then sees the dark silhouette in the alley. “Give it a rest, he doesn’t have them, I told you.” The other approaches, with Gavin is still locked in this position, his assaulter’s hand clenching his shirt.

"He does…" sulks to first one. 

"He d _oesn’t,_ " he second answers, sounding a whole lot more sober and somehow  _familiar._ The second pulls out his phone and turns on the light, which in consequence blinds both Gavin and his assaulter.

When his eyes adjust he can see the man holding him is small, and way too glassy eyed to really be a threat. He begins to pull away, only he is stopped by what the voice says next.

"Five o’eight?"

The light moves down from his face to ground. And even in the darkness Gavin can guess the man’s shocked expression, along with his identity. “Five eleven,” he spits back, suddenly no longer afraid but  _angry._  Angry that this  _asshole_  has given him a fright. That he acted all  _high and mighty_ whilst he and his friend attempted to mug others in alleyways. 

So, shaking on adrenaline and anger, he pushes the first man out of his way. He maneuvers around five eleven, whom is stood there still. 

And Gavin runs down the block back to his apartments. He doesn’t wait for the elevator, as if in fear that is his neighbor were to chase him, he’d find him still waiting in the lobby. Instead he headed straight for the staircase. He ran up it, to his apartment. 

He collapsed inside, sliding down the locked door.

—-

After that both Gavin and his neighbor in 511 did not cross paths again. He didn’t know if it were on purpose, or if it their schedules just didn’t really align. Either way, he was both grateful and bothered by the whole thing…

The fact that he and his friend almost mugged Gavin that night, well, it still haunted him. It haunted him like unfinished business, like they would try again when he was off his guard. And from that point on he  _wasn’t._  

He never took the stairs these days.

But now his days at the convenience store were coming to an end. School had started up, and Gavin didn’t want any distractions from his original goal and purpose of being here. 

On his last day at the job, he bought himself a candy bar and quietly celebrated his retirement, much to his boss’s displeasure. Afterwords, he headed home and began to pack his bag for the next day. He even packed lunch.

Yet, that night he tossed and turned… His thoughts swimming with apprehension and excitement. What would it be like? Would it be everything he had expected it to be? What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he was far behind everybody else in the class? 

At some point, early that morning, he fell asleep.

And he woke up to his neighbor’s (507) exercise tape blaring. Not the alarm. He glanced over at the alarm clock, which now read nine o’clock, fear piercing through his body. His first class started at nine thirty, and this was the first bloody day!

"Fuck," he cries, jumping from under the covers, quickly abandoning any thought of a shower. Instead, he dresses, and silently thanks himself for packing his bag the night prior. Saying a quick prayer for swiftness as he runs out the door and jabs at the elevator button.

It is too slow. So, he is forced to take the stairs that he hasn’t in a month. To his relief nobody is there. 

He hits the street running, carrying a heavy bag full of camera equipment. It is delicate stuff, so he tries to be careful picking his way around people, not in the mood to be replacing any of that with his hard earned paychecks. But it does slow him down significantly… Which means he will be late on his first day of classes. Fantastic.

“ _Asshole! Hey, Five o’eight!”_ yells a voice that Gavin immediately recognizes. And all he can do in response, is freeze, close his eyes, and wonder why… Why now? Why was he cursed?

He hears several people swearing around him, and is pushed and shoved slightly, as people move out of the way. And Gavin opens his eyes a little too late to spot Five eleven driving right at him on a  _bloody bicycle._  

He swears and stumbles out of the way, tipping backward slightly, only to be steadied by the asshole who almost ran him over in the first place. Gavin is livid. “What the fuck was that!” he screams in Five eleven’s stupid, beaming face, as he looks absolutely pleased with himself. _  
_

Five eleven at least has the decency to look sheepish, “I was going to stop…”

Gavin crosses his arms.

The man on the bike fidgets, “look, I just wanted to say I’m  _sorry._  About… you know.”

Although Gavin is relieved to have some resolution to the problem, he isn’t thankful for it’s delivery. Nor is he forgiving. They may not of gone through with him, but they probably have with others. That made anybody indecent in Gavin’s book, apology or none. “Is that all?” he asks rather crossly, sure that he was to be late now.

He looks surprised by Gavin’s rudeness and just nods, “uh… yeah.”

So, Gavin nods and begins on his way. Only, moments later, he is followed by the clicking of bike wheels. 

"Hey, can I give you a lift?" 

Gavin stops, and the clicking stops. He turns around to see the brown haired man watching him, looking perfectly  _innocent._  Bastard. He frowns, “no.”

"Look, you seem like you could really use a lift… and it is the least I can do. Plus, I promise I can get you there in a minute and a half."

Gavin finds himself doing a stupid. He finds himself  _considering it._  He finds himself saying, “how, when you don’t even know where I’m headed?”

The man smiles, “because I’m fast.”

"I’m headed to Columbia University."

The man nods, “ok, I know where that is. Two minutes, flat.”

Gavin hesitates, but he doesn’t hesitate long enough for a normal person. A normal person would tell this guy to fuck off. They wouldn’t consider getting a ride from a stranger, a stranger who was associated with a bad type. But something about him makes Gavin want to believe he is  _geniune._  And something is  _wrong_  with Gavin’s brain. 

Something is daring inside him. That same something made him move to New York City all on his own. So, Gavin walks around the bike. The man has moved forward, so that he can claim the seat. 

"You may want to hold on," his neighbor says, standing on the peddles with a grin, just before steering the bike off into traffic. 

Gavin is left on the seat, gripping it’s edges for dear life, as he watches the man’s back as he steers and jerks the bike between the lines of honking horns and yelling drivers. And he is sure he is going to die here. Die watching the back of Five eleven’s head. He squeezes his eyes shut…

And the bike jerks to a stop.

"Here, in record time, too, I’d say." 

When Gavin opens his eyes he looks up to see that, indeed, they were there before the building. He gets off the bike, on less than sturdy legs, turning to look at his neighbor who is considering the building before them. “Thanks, I guess,” Gavin says, ever polite.

Five eleven looks back to him, and he smiles slightly. “Yeah, no problem, man.”

Gavin nods slowly and turns away, heading for the entrance.

He hears the click of the bike, “hey!” He freezes. He glances back around at the bike that is now directed into the traffic, with the man skewed on it in a final impulse. “The name is Ray!”

Gavin pauses and considers this for a moment. “Ok, well you’re still not forgiven, Ray!” Gavin calls back before turning away, finally. And when he hears Ray’s laughter, fading away with the click of the bike, a smirk finds its way to his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

There are a lot of pluses that comes with Gavin's small apartment. One, it was location. Second, was that the heat and electric was actually cheap as dicks because it was so small. And while it's pros outweighed the cons, there were a few annoyances...

His neighbor in 507, who was some kind of health guru, was one. He had only seen her once, but he had heard her exercise tapes every morning, afternoon, and night. And the  _one_  time they did cross paths she had caught him chugging a Red Bull, to which she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

However, now that classes had started, and started off with them  _running_ , he needed the extra boost to buzz through some pretty thorough editing projects. The projects were simple, but frequent, and Gavin  _needed_  to prove himself. Even with the kind words his teacher had to say about his project with  _movement._ _  
_

He glanced down at the right corner of his computer, rubbing his eyes as the clock read midnight... He could of sworn it was eight five minutes ago. He leaned back in his seat with a sigh, rubbing the crust from the corners of his eyes, he hadn't realized how stiff he had gotten. His hand edged for the long abandoned cup of coffee, but he only frowned when he discovered it was dead cold.

Well, something had to be done about this travesty, so he headed for the kitchen to make a fresh cup... Only he was  _too_  lazy to bother, so he ended up placing the old, half full cup in the microwave. The result ended with him spluttering, and washing the distasteful remains down the drain. 

There was a knock at the door. And it was like a shock of electricity going through him, Gavin was frozen with his mug still in hand, because he wasn't expecting anybody. Forgodsakes, he  _never_  was expecting anybody because he didn't have any family here, and he didn't really have any friends.

No, that wasn't as pathetic as it sounded. Gavin has lots of acquaintances, and people that he liked at school. It was just... He didn't have people like  _Dan_  who would just walk into his home uninvited and plop down on his couch. He didn't have family that constantly visited and pestered him on his health, and his terrible nocturnal sleeping habits. Not here.

The second knock brought him back, his heart racing and his lips dry. He licked them, and awkwardly placed the mug down. He felt unsure of himself as he shuffled to the door, wondering, in vain, if he should change out of boxers. But it is too late, and he is faced with the blank wooden frame of his door... Which is problem number two about his apartment, it didn't have a bloody peek hole, so he could spy on whom was at his door.

He kept the chain on as pried open the door, peering out through the crack of space it allowed. A familiar, brown haired head poked its way around, "heyyy, ummm, Five o'eight, it is just me... Ray, or, er, Five eleven!"

Gavin pauses, turning to look back at the small clock he hung in his apartment, which read quarter after twelve. At night. Without a second thought, he slammed the door shut and yanked off the chain, opening the door so he could properly get a word in. "It's  _bloody_  midnight, what do you want?" 

To his scowl, Ray backs up an inch, putting up his hands in surrender. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get something to eat?"

Gavin crosses his arms, "at midnight?"

Ray shrugs his shoulders, a lazy grin tugging forward, "what can I say? I'm a nighthawk."

Gavin feels annoyed that this guy thinks it is okay to come knocking at his door at midnight... But at the same time, he  _was_  just standing there sulking over the fact that he never got company. Plus, he  _was_  kind of hungry... and he wasn't very clever, survival wise, because he was considering it.

He puffed out his chest, and positioned himself into debate stance. "And why would I be interested?"

"Um, because,  _food?_  Bonus, I pay as an official apology."

Free food was enough of a deal breaker for Gavin Free, or at least for his stomach which gave a churn at the thought. But, he wasn't quite sold, he pursed his lips, considering, "and I get to chose whatever I like?"

Ray patted the pocket on his jacket, "I mean, within reason, yeah."

And that is a demand that Gavin can live with. He pauses, holding up one hand as he glances down at his pajama bottoms, "give me five minutes to get changed."

Ray smiles as the door is slammed shut in Gavin's haste, "done."

Opening the door in his pajamas, now that was really smooth of him. Gavin shook his head as he tore through his closet, looking for a clean pair of jeans (as he hadn't bothered to get the laundry done he was supposed to earlier that day). To his mild frustration, he only had one tight pair of blue wash jeans left, which he had technically meant to throw out. It would have to do.

He caught himself paused in front of the mirror, trying to shape his flattened hair into something more presentable... And he just had to stop. Because here he was making an effort for some  _jerk_  who asked him out at midnight... for some sort of apology for almost  _mugging him._  He groans under his breath, and grabs his keys and phone, yanking the door open before he can regret this bad decision any further.

"Hey," Ray greets with a tiny smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he slouches, almost automatically.

"Hey," Gavin breathes, and turns lock up. And as he is locking up, he realizes it feels like he is locking himself out of the safety of his own apartment. "Where to?" Gavin asks, conversationally as he tests the security of his door.

"I was thinking Micky D's, but I mean, if you want something more..."

Gavin thinks about the greasy, asking for a heart attack menu, and then back to his faded washed out jeans. "Nah, that works."

"Cool," Ray mutters as they both shuffle over to the elevator.

They stand there watching the lights slowly blink, and Gavin suddenly feels too anxious. Just waiting for the elevator to come up, and then the thought of having to wait  _in_  it with Ray just feels unbearable. "Let's take the stairs," Gavin says without really thinking about it.

And he turns to spot Ray's smirk. "Alright, I'll race you," and he slaps a hand over before he disappears down the hall. And Gavin is frozen in that moment, watching the vanishing of brown hair, his heart already pumping in anticipation... He breaks away his frozen limbs pumping him forth, his lungs full of air and his head full of rushing blood. He laughs, high with oxygen, high on  _life_ , as he trails the squeaking sound of sneakers down the staircase.

\---

"You know... I still don't know your name," Ray says just as Gavin is mid-bite into a burger that would make his health guru neighbor positively  _die._  

Gavin nearly chokes on his burger because it  _was_  pretty rude of him... Them being neighbors and all, you would of thought that he would of introduced himself  _some time ago._

"Don't worry, I only know a few others... and that is just because I've been in those  _shit_  apartments for so long."

"Right," Gavin muttered, placing his burger aside, though he was thankful for Ray's tact, he wasn't entirely sure where to begin.

"For example," Ray interrupted, leaning onto the table, his lips pressed in amusement. "The name is Ray Narvaez Jr, eighteen, short-cut extraordinaire."

And the  _bad_ _part_  about all this is Gavin is quickly forgetting his doubts and suspicions with Ray. He is beginning to let his guard down... And letting it down is  _surprisingly_  easy... He bites away a smile, looking down at his fries, he begins to poke away at them. "Extraordinaire?"

"I know this city like the palm of my hand," Ray proudly bragged, prompting him to lean back in his chair again, waiting patiently for Gavin's turn.

He breathed. "I am Gavin Free, nineteen, film student."

"Gavin Free, nice."

"Thanks, I guess." He returns to his food because that was the only  _real_  reason why he came out tonight... Well, that and curiosity of course.

He glanced up to watch Ray devour his burger, lick his fingers, and then point to the pickle slice Gavin had delicately picked of his own. "You gonna eat that?" He shook his head, and watched that disappear as well.

"Are you in school?" Gavin asks out of nowhere, but it has been a question on his mind since Ray spoke his age. Eighteen, that meant that he had to be going to college, or some sort of school? Right?

"Not at the moment. I work two jobs."

"Where?"

Ray leans back in his seat and pats his stomach, "mannn, I am stuffed. I'm going to go take a shit, be back in five." 

When Ray gets back he never answers Gavin's question. And Gavin is savvy enough to know not to ask again.

\---

Classes were starting to ease out, and the initial panic was coming to and end. While tests did cause a daily strain on Gavin's mind, after a month of being there, the official scare of not  _being good enough_  was over. Over that month his knowledge had quadrupled, which was to say that his trip here wasn't for  _nothing._  A fact, which, he repeated to his mum over the phone, on  _several_  calls.

The short edits that were assigned to film class were now over. It was now time, according to their professor, for them to combine all these lessons and use them in one motion picture. Or, the project that they would be working on for the next five weeks, which would also count as fifty percent of their grade. Gavin shook in his boots, only a little. 

But he judged that he had, maybe, two weeks to finalize the script that he had to write, Given, any ideas would come his way. On the third day, in this count down, he was livid. Tearing apart pages of dry monologue, of less than inspired,  _cliche_ story lines. He was ready to tear his hair out.

He scribbled his pen across a blank page, jumping from his seat, he paced the tiny space that he called his apartment. Normally, he was not bothered by it, but normally he was not pacing like a lunatic. He reached for his coat, keys, and phone.... Overwhelmed with the need to just get away from his laptop and blank sheets that seemed to endlessly flash FAILURE in his face. Some director he was.

He stepped out and locked up. Glancing up and down the hall, now that he was free, he realized he had absolutely no clue to what he should do with himself. Cuss words littered his mind, and his legs carried him forward before he could even think. Before he could realize exactly the consequences of what he was doing, he was knocking on the door. Of five eleven.

His heart pounds in his chest as he hears footsteps approaching the door, curious to know what might be unleashed in Ray's apartment. Except he is faced with a kind, but stern faced woman, who asks, "who are you?"

"Uhh, Ray?" Gavin asks dumbly, his brain still not fully contributing to this predicament he got himself in.

The woman scowls, however, after looking at him head to toe, her features lighten slightly. "You don't look.... like of my son's friends."

"Your son," Gavin parrots, like a moron... Because it is so obvious as to their relationship, he honestly did not know how he didn't realize it before.

"Yes, Ray," she says, now cautiously, like she is unsure of her previous judgement now.

He wants her to be right... Or, at least, he wants her to  _like him_. He isn't sure  _why_ , he just does. Maybe he just wants a nice neighbor. Maybe because she was Ray's  _mother._  Who knows. 

He breathes, "yeah, right... is he here?"

She gives a little shake of her head, offering up little information, "no he is out with his buddies. I believe he will be for a while."

Gavin just feels awkward now... This could of easily been avoided if he didn't go knocking on doors without thinking. If he had thought to ask Ray for his bloody phone number! So many way he could of avoided this... But he was already committed, "do you know  _where_  he is?"

Ray's mother let out a great sigh, and then gave him a tentative, sad smile. "Sweetie, even if I  _did_  know for sure, I wouldn't tell you... Ray has heart, that is for certain. But that boy doesn't have good taste in friends, no offense, you seem just fine yourself. But others..." She shook her head, "anyway, when he gets back, I'll send him your way... You're?"

"Gavin," he says automatically, now that his brain has caught up and just absorbed that information like a sponge. Ray was... The door clicked shut on him, and he found himself numbly turning back towards his apartment. Ray was not a good guy... No matter how much Gavin wanted to believe it, and he realized he  _really_  did want to believe it.

But  _why?_  What was this fascination with one guy? Was it because he was a complete contradiction? That one minute was nearly an accomplice to a mugging, and another he was a patient acquaintance in a burger shop...

Gavin let himself back into his room. He sat down at his laptop, and pulled up the document, in which he began to list all the  _Ray Facts_. Which slowly diverted into a story.

\---

There was a knock on the door which made Gavin blink away from the story that was flowing through his finger tips like magic. For two hours straight, apparently, he deduced as he glanced down at the clock. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretched, and headed for the door (where the knocking was getting more insistent).

He yanked the door open, ready to grumble about the hour... When he saw Ray fidgeting at the door. "My mom said you stopped by? Something wrong?" 

Gavin licked his lips, realizing, only know, how thirsty he really was... And how he had completely forgot that conversation earlier today. It was like just another part in his story.

Ray looked up and sighed, like he was both relieved and annoyed at the same time. "Cool."

Gavin closed the door, and pulled away the chain, opening again to let the light of his apartment stream out into the dark hallway. It illuminated the curves of Ray's face. It also highlighted the nasty cut on his nose and the dried blood at his nostrils. "Sorry-oh my god, what happened to your-?"

Looking like an irritated kid caught stealing from the cookie jar, only to be told to put the cookie back, Ray stared at his feet. "Fell off my bike."

For some reason, God only knows why, Gavin  _plays along_. Even though he really doesn't believe Ray's lame ass excuse for a second. "Ouch, bike ok?"

Ray smiles, relieved he is going with it, "better than my face."

Gavin graciously laughs. 

And they stand there for a moment. "Look, not that I mind you stopping by and everything... don't."

Gavin blinks, taken aback by this blunt statement.

Which Ray scurries to amend, "I meant, next time, just text me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, technology. Here's my number," Ray hands him a slip of paper with his digits and he just stares at it for a moment.

"Thanks."

"Cool."

\---

_**(12:12PM)**   
**hey it is gav** _

_(12:15PM)  
THIS IS RAY_

_(12:16PM)  
what up_

__**(12:20PM)  
** **history of civilization**   


_(12:24PM)_  
sounds like a snoozer  
escape 4 food?

_**(12:25PM)  
** **u not busy?** _

_(12:27PM)  
for food never. meet in fifteen. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR MENTIONS OF DRUG DEALING AND VIOLENCE
> 
> From this chapter on this are taking a SERIOUS turn from happy Gavy to Ray's world.  
> This chapter is told from Ray's point of view this time. And from this point on things will start getting a little darker. I'm sorry to leave behind the fluffy feelings, I will add more next chapter.

_"What do you do?"_

The question was enough to knot up Ray’s bowels fast, and in a way that the fast food flooding his system never could. It was impressive. Especially impressive, because it never bothered him like this before… Before some kid moved next door to him, and looked at him with big green eyes that whispered innocence. Only for him to fuck it up a few weeks later, and now those same eyes were narrowed in constant suspicion. Though, even that was becoming softer with the time they spent together, just shooting the shit. Like  _normal_  kids.

“ _Ray-man, hey,”_ an elbow jabbed him in the ribs, two dead, brown eyes bore into his own. He absently wondered if his eyes were that dead, if they had the same glazed over far away look to them, like hope had long departed. “Did you even listen to one fucking word?”

He knew better than to answer by now. He knew that it would cause more trouble. It was better to play dead and suffer the verbal abuse, rather than the physical. 

"You’re a fucking retard, you’re  _useless_ , goddamnit, I don’t understand why I keep you around…”

Ray absently listens, wondering why he had once looked up to this moron… Wondering why he got into the  _game_  in the first place. It never was the peer pressure, though that did come later… Ah, right, it was all about the money. It was about the fact that his mother struggled to put food on the table for the two of them. It was about seeing her come home, to change out of her high heels, her blister ridden feet sliding into sneakers before she left again for her second job.

It was about watching the gold chain bounce on their necks as they walked down the streets… Their new Jordan’s so fresh the treads were still snow white as they were in the box. It was the deep, black envy that enveloped him when watched them greedily splurge their cash, as he wondered if he’d eat that night. 

He remembers twelve year old Ray, approaching them, fearless on an empty stomach, demanding where they get their kicks. They smiled at him. They gave him a cellphone and told him to stand on the corner of the street and watch for cops. They told him if he were a good kid, if he called wolf to their flock of sheep, then he’d get a cut. 

Ray understands now why it was so easy for a twelve year old to be recruited. He was small for his age, so he’d easily pass as nine or ten, and for this job it was important. Because kids were less conspicuous. Because cops would think twice before handcuffing a kid. Even if they did cry wolf.

T is done with his rant now because he has traded it for sucking down a cigarette instead. Ray instinctively wrinkles his nose as the smoke is blown in his face, on purpose. T knows how much he fucking hates it. “I want you to take the  _gift_  to Molly instead.”

Ray shifts, adjusting the straps on his backpack, which was now weighed down with the  _gift_ , or the fucking drugs. Over the years he grew, and was upgraded to a runner. Which was one of the lower jobs, but no less dangerous. He had to help transport the goods from one distributor to another. And the bike and backpack made him blend in with the mix of good kids going away to college. Good kids like Gavin. His bowels did that weird flip thing again. 

"Alright," he says without question because somethings are better left unknown, especially for Ray. Ray didn’t want in the game any longer. But leaving was easier said than done. There was only a few ways you left— and that was if you moved, if you died, or if you were caught. He didn’t think he could shoulder any at this point, so he hopped up onto his bike and carted away.

There was nothing like biking through the city. One of the few things Ray indulged in was adrenaline. If he were honest with himself, he was an adrenaline junkie. And skimming in between honking cars was just enough for him to get his kicks. It was amazing to slide by cars that confined and imprisoned their owners in lines and rules. It almost would feel like being free, if it weren’t the package he carried… Which were chained to his shoulders like dead weight.

He wanted to drop it as soon as possible. 

He decided to take a risk. He traveled, knowingly, into another’s turf. It was not a good idea, but Molly’s apartment was on the other loops of their turf, and bee lining it through the other would make the trip significantly shorter.

It turned out to be a grave mistake. The other gang knew Ray’s face, and they also knew what he was carrying. And when he let his guard down, crossing between an alley way, they trapped him on either side. He tried pedaling past them, but just as he thought he had escaped, he felt a tug. They had latched onto the backpack, and that was enough to dislodge Ray off his bike and into the concrete. They wasted no time in ripping the backpack from his exposed back.

They wasted no time sending a message. Declaring their superiority, as they kicked in his ribs, as they broke his nose, despite his bloody hands that desperately tried to shield his face. He didn’t even try to fight back. He knew better. He knew they had knives and he knew that they would use them. Disgrace was better than an untimely death.

They spit on him, and begin to disperse, taking the drugs with them. He wonders if  _Gavin_  would agree with him. Gavin, whose eyes flashed so quickly from fear to anger, at a lousy mugging, that they could of sparked a fire. He wondered about it as he blinked away tears of pain as he moved, as blood throbbed from his nose to his mouth. It was warm and sticky, and it came out frequently as his racing heart beat. 

—-

When Ray showed up at Molly’s empty handed, her anger was quickly reflected from his failure (to his great relief), to the crew that had stolen from them. And disrespected them. This was war. She was even sympathetic enough to help him get cleaned up before he would return home. She reset his nose.

He knew it was only a matter of time before his gang and the other fought for that territory again. His beating would be the perfect excuse. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t make himself scarce. Because he was sure T was going to demand some reparation for the loss of quality goods.

He rode his bike home, taking the long route, and cutting through traffic slower. He was still shaken, and his ribs were killing him. By the time he got home it was late. Really late. 

He tried to sneak into the apartment, but like usual, his mother was resting on the couch… Preventing him from sneaking anywhere. He tried to tiptoe, but she lifted her sleepy head, blinking up at him. And he was frozen there, watching her expression slowly turn from clouded confusion to anger.

"What have you  _done?”_  she accused breathlessly. Concern long lost in her expression, melting into something he had become accustomed to—  _shame, disappointment._

"Fell off my bike," he mumbled, shoulders hunched, hoping she wouldn’t realize how scuffed up his shirt was. 

Her eyes seemed to cloud over again, like the lie had triggered a sense of disbelief. She was cold and rigid as she marched down the hall to her room. She paused in the doorway “your friend Gavin stopped by, he seemed nice,” she said before the door was closed on him.

—-

Ray was left standing there, drowning in a crashing wave of emotions. He thought of Gavin knocking on his door, asking his mom to let Ray out to play for the day. He thought about how he wished that was how things were.

How he liked to  _pretend_ , at least where Gavin was concerned. He didn’t know how fucked up he was. But that was the problem, he really shouldn’t get involved with Ray. Ray was a living, breathing liability. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had to push Gavin out of his life, at least until he got out. At least until he wasn’t so fucked up.

He knocked on the door with just that intention. Until he watched Gavin’s face fall. Until he gave him his number. Until he caught himself smiling like an idiot when Gavin’s door slid shut in front of him.

—-

Ray spent the next few days laying low. Which meant he had a lot of time on his hands, enough that he begin to stare at his phone… In some desperate attempt that Gavin might actually text him. When it didn’t come on the third day, he resigned himself to scaring him off. Maybe Gavin had found sense, after seeing Ray with a dried up, broken nose. 

He got cabin fever on the third day, and headed out to anywhere that wasn’t the four walls of his room. He took the stairs, like usual… Because the thought of being trapped in a metal box, with nowhere to run was unbearable. The first skill he learned when he joined the game was always keep an eye out for the possible exits. For places to escape or evade the cops. 

The fresh air did miracles to his angst, as it filled his lungs and made him feel less  _stale_. He shuffled into the closest convenience store, and went around to buy some vitamin water. It was then that the little door bell rung, announcing the arrival of two police officers. Ray begin to sweat, but as he didn’t have anything on him, it was better to play it cool.

He stopped before the register, watching the cops from the corner of his eye as the woman rang up his order and he mindlessly handed her cash. One cop came up behind him with two sodas.

He took his drink and made a beeline for the door, and he thought he was going to escape, when the second cop came into view. The second cop had a sinister smile to him, like he was pretending to be friendly, and clearly failing without much care. 

"Hi, mind if we have a word?" 

Ray is about to protest when the other cop, with a scruffy beard and tattoos comes up behind him, “it’ll only take a minute. We just have a few questions.”

—-

Few questions his ass. Ray crossed his arms, as this friendly conversation had turned into a trip to their station. They were seated in the scruffy one’s office, which was oddly informal as their next words.

"I’m Geoff," the scruffy one announced, pointing to himself, and then to the light haired individual at his side, "he’s Ryan."

And they wait, as if they are expecting a nice introduction form Ray… One that they aren’t getting.

After a minute ticked by of growing tension, Ryan let out a long sigh. He leaned forward in his seat, his expression molding from amusement to business… He was dropping the facade, and Ray almost respected him for it. Almost. “Look, we already know who you are, and what you do. So, it’d be easier on you if you cooperated.”

Ray’s heart gave a shudder. He knew it. He knew that he would eventually be caught, just he never knew it would be like this. He imagined handcuffs, he imagined being manhandled into the back of a car. “What?” 

"Ray Narvaez Jr., runner. Been with the gang at least seven years."

His mouth was suddenly dry, and he felt sweat evaporate while more pumped from his pores, leaving him chilled.

Geoff shared an annoyed look with Ryan, who just shrugged in response. He sighed, “look, we aren’t here to just bust you kid… We’re here because we want your help.”

Ray felt skeptical, was this their twisted way of getting a confession out of him? He inclined his head, slightly, to let them know he was listening.

"We’ve been watching your gang for a while now…. And while we could bust the little fish, we’d much rather go for a big one. Y’know?"

"Again with the fishing analogies…" murmured Ryan.

"You want me to be a rat," Ray said flatly. Because that was what this meant. It meant turning over his gang, the second closest thing he had to family… He had known them for seven years. And while he wasn’t very involved until three, it was still a long time.

Geoff broke into a lazy grin, and finally shrugged, “I suppose you could call it that too. But yes, I want you to rat out your superiors. I want proof. I want them in jail.”

Ray wasn’t sold, even Geoff’s grin made him uncomfortable. Like it was forced like it was fake… Like just underneath a scratch there was a deeply frustrated cop, on the line, desperate enough to turn to a gang member for help. “Why should I?” he hedged, testing his boundaries. 

Geoff’s lip twitched and Ryan was silent as the dead. After a long silence, the cop finally spoke. “Because you want to make amends.”

Another silence fell on the room. It lingered for about five minutes, but it felt like it was years. Ray was so lost in thought, that when his phone buzzed against his thigh he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

 **(12:12PM)**    
 **hey it is gav**

His heart skipped a beat as he read the text. He looked up at the cops, willing himself the courage to slip of his seat and leave. But he was bound by invisible cuffs. Geoff took out the invisible keys, “why don’t you think about it, and get back to us.”

He nodded quickly, as they dismissed him, stepping out of the office to type out a quick response to Gavin. His heart fluttered when the response buzzed in. When he agreed to go out to eat like normal kids do. Like plans like these were the greatest of Ray’s worries. He glanced back at the two cops in the office. He thought about his broken nose. About Molly. About T. About his mom. About Gavin.

He marched up to the office and poked his head back in the door, heart racing in his chest… Adrenaline pumping through his veins. He felt a cheeky smirk crawl up his face at Ryan’s shocked expression, and Geoff’s cool expectant one as he spoke.

"I’ll do it. I’ll be your rat. But I have lunch first."


End file.
